


Snogging

by ForbiddenRituals



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Harry x Hermione - Freeform, Kissing, Oneshot, harrmione, slice of life? sorta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-26 18:00:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13862970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForbiddenRituals/pseuds/ForbiddenRituals
Summary: Harry and Hermione are teenagers with urges, and teenagers are notoriously awkward.





	Snogging

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! First fic I've posted in a while after I did a complete overhaul. By overhaul I mean I was too embarrassed by my old fics to let them survive so I deleted them. ;; 
> 
> This fic was actually supposed to be multiple parts, but after I re-read the books I realized what I had in mind would not fit and I wanted to make it as close to canon as possible. So here is just a silly one-shot and I hope you like it!
> 
> Comments and kudos would be appreciated. <3 This fic was beta'd by my love. I don't think he has an account on here so I can't link him lol
> 
> Happy Reading!

Hermione had never particularly liked the word ‘snogging’.

Whenever she imagined herself kissing someone, ‘snogging’ never seemed to fit. It was so informal and crass, meant for kisses that were wet and sloppy, the likes of which she’d seen in every corner of Hogwarts lately.

There was a small part of her that was mature enough to admit she was a bit jealous.

Only to herself, of course.

Unfortunately, it was also one of the hottest topics in the girl’s dormitory. The gossip always managed to distract her from her studies, much to her irritation. She didn’t  _ need _ to know that Dean Thomas was good at it, or that Pansy Parkinson liked to mark the victims she took whenever she was rebuffed by Malfoy. Didn’t they understand that they had the rest of their lives to worry about who they would be spending time with, but only these few years to set which paths those lives would take? It was ridiculous! And yet, she could feel a kindling desire whenever she saw an attractive couple going at it.

All this pent up frustration left Hermione far more irritated than usual. 

She left the Gryffindor common room, needing some place less hectic to study. She’d barely managed to avoid being flattened by the twins’ roughhousing, something about ogling Angelina. She stepped through the portrait hole, her textbooks tucked neatly under her arm, and hurried along. If she finished Snape’s homework quickly, she could have an early dinner and start revising for Charms. She heard a rumor that there would be a quiz.

But of course, nothing was ever easy for a dedicated student such as Hermione Granger, especially when she ran into particularly distasteful scum. 

Quite literally.

She saw a flash of platinum round the corner seconds before it crashed into her. Pain blossomed in her forehead and she fell, landing bum first. 

“Ouch!” she cried, clutching her forehead and glaring at the culprit. Draco Malfoy glared back, rubbing his own forehead which was pinking from the contact. He scrambled to his feet, taking advantage of his height to sneer down at her.

“Watch it, Granger,” he said, but his usual contempt wasn’t there. He seemed… distracted? She couldn’t be sure.

“ _ You _ ran into  _ me _ ,” she clarified, before standing and dusting off her school robes.

“Whatever.” he grumbled, to her surprise. Normally he took any chance he got to torment her and her friends.

How odd.

She looked closely at him as he checked himself, patting down his robes and glancing about until he spotted what he was looking for. His wand lay a few feet from him and he snatched it up, stalking off with a parting glare.

She was too dumbstruck to notice.

Malfoy had had a hickie on his neck! Not only that, but his hair was mussed from its usual slick style, as if he’d just rolled out of bed after a particularly violent dream.

Malfoy had just been off necking.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” she hissed aloud, stomping her foot in her exasperation. It maddened her to be confronted with the fact that even that  _ git _ was up to more promiscuous shenanigans than she was.

“You okay, Hermione?”

She near jumped out of her skin, whipping around to see her best friend walking up with his broomstick. Harry must have just had quidditch practice, covered in sweat and dust as he was.

“I’m fine,” she said with a sigh, bending down to pick up her books. She winced as her forehead throbbed a little.

“Was that Malfoy?” he asked, peering around her suspiciously as the retreating figure turned another corner down the corridor.

“Yes, he ran into me. He seemed in an awful hurry,” she grumbled. She noticed one of her books had a dent on the spine, and some of the notes she had tucked into the other were slipping out. She’d have to fix that later.

“Probably off to feed on some innocent first years,” Harry mused. Hermione snorted, cracking a smile.

“I wouldn’t doubt that. What are you up to now?”

“I was going to wash up and relax. It was a good practice today, we’re in great shape for our next match,” he beamed, swinging his broom up onto his shoulder proudly.

“Have you started Snape’s homework?”

The grin on Harry’s face faltered, and Hermione felt a twinge of regret for stifling it.

Only a small one.

“Not yet...”

“Why don’t you come with me to the library? It’s an easy assignment, and the sooner we get it done the better.”

“Er… I was going to see if Ron wanted to play chess...” Harry mumbled sheepishly. Hermione knew he was trying to get out of it, and if she wasn’t so used to this she’d have felt bad.

She didn’t.

“Harry Potter, your school work is very important and if you slack off imagine how wretched your scores will be-”

“Alright! Okay, just... give me half an hour? I’ll wash up and meet you in the library.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him.

“I promise!”

“Good.”

* * *

 

Harry made his way down to the library after he cleaned up and put on some fresh robes. He was a bit disappointed that he’d let himself be bullied into doing homework, as it was such a beautiful day, but in the end he caved because he knew she was right.

She always was.

As he walked he noticed a lot of students, particularly in his year, mingling much more intently than they had last term. Girls clustered together, giggling and blushing as they made eyes at boys. Boys awkwardly posed their newfound lean bodies against walls and buttresses, trying to look casual despite their quick, almost desperate glances in the direction of pretty girls.

And then there were the pairs who had moved past that point, breaking off from their groups and attaching themselves to each other.

Usually by their faces.

Harry was old enough to understand what was going on, and even to have those urges himself. That didn’t mean he wasn’t frustrated at having to see it at least fifty times a day. He had told Ron this in passing on their way to lunch, and his best friend had snickered and said it was because Harry had no one to snog.

Ron was right of course, so Harry socked him in the arm. Of course Ron had found it amusing, since he seemed to be glued to Lavender Brown when he wasn’t sleeping or eating.

He finally reached the library, and for once appreciated why Hermione found it to be such a sanctuary. He found her easily enough, and sat down across from her. She was already nose deep in her Charms book, her Potions homework most likely finished and tucked away out of sight. He set his own textbook down, and was digging in his bag for a quill when suddenly Hermione slammed her book closed. Harry jumped a little, thankful he hadn’t opened his ink yet, and looked at her curiously.

“Let’s study by the lake.” she said, quickly snatching up all of her things and setting off without looking at him. Confused, he gathered his own things and hurried after her.

“Hermione! Hey!” Harry called, once he was out of the library. She didn’t slow down, and once he’d finished stuffing his book into his bag, he caught up to her.

“Hermione, what in Godric’s name-”

“It was too noisy in there.” she snapped, still not meeting his eye. Her cheeks were a blotchy red color, her eyes glittering and Harry grabbed her arm, his concern growing.

“Hermione- stop.”

She stopped walking, still looking away from him.

“What happened?”

“You didn’t hear them?” 

“Who?”

Hermione turned to face him, incredulous, but Harry was more worried about the tears sliding down her cheeks.

“Pansy and her goons! They were behind the shelves, whispering and cackling about me.”

Harry hesitated. He hadn’t heard them, but he also hadn’t been paying attention. He’d become rather good at tuning out whispers, after years of them following him wherever he went in Wizarding Britain. If he hadn’t, he’d probably have gone mad already.

Hermione rubbed her face with the back of her hand, trying to stop the tears. She let out a frustrated huff.

“It isn’t anything new, I don’t know why I let it bother me today. I just- can we-?” she gestured vaguely forward. Harry nodded, and they started walking toward the Entrance Hall.

“What were they saying?” Harry asked, after a long pause punctuated with Hermione’s sniffles.

“The usual. I’m ugly, and nobody wants me, and I fill my time with books so I don’t notice I don’t have any friends.” 

“You know that’s not true.”

“Of course I do.”

They finally made it outside, the sky was a perfect blue, darkening a little over the Forbidden Forest as the sun made its way toward the horizon. They found their favorite spot underneath a tree by the lake, settling down in its comforting shade. Hermione was still crying, furiously rubbing each tear drop away, and looking steadily angrier with herself for allowing it to continue. Harry didn’t like seeing her so distraught. She was brilliant, and deserved far better than being made fun of.

“Is that all... I mean, is there something else?” he prodded delicately, not wanting to upset her further.

Hermione paused for a moment. “I can’t be certain.” she admitted softly, looking out over the lake. She worried at her hair, pulling it back into a tail that looked ready to burst free at any moment. 

“Have you noticed everyone in this castle seems to be snogging one another?”

Harry was so startled by the question that he laughed. Hermione’s blush returned, but she did crack a smile, and after a moment started giggling along with him.

“I’m serious! It’s as if something is in there air, a terrible bug.”

“A love bug?” Harry snickered.

“Definitely not! Lust maybe.”

They sat there laughing together for a bit, and Harry noticed with relief that her tears had ceased. He laid back on the grass, folding his arms behind his head.

“As a matter of fact, I have.” 

“Thank goodness, I thought it was just me.”

The grass crunched next to Harry as Hermione took a similar position, though her hands were folded neatly across her middle.

They sat in silence, and Harry shut his eyes, listening to the breeze ruffling the leaves, the occasional splashes from the lake as the giant squid moved about. It really was a nice day.

“Maybe I am a bit lonely.”

Harry felt his heart ache at her tone. He, of all people, understood loneliness.

“Why’s that?”

“Well, it’s just… I have you and Ron, you’re my closest friends. And there’s Ginny and Neville, but I know that my interests aren’t really shared, my goals… not that there’s anything wrong with that. But sometimes it shows, when I’m alone in the library for hours.”

Harry felt guilt descend upon him. He’d never considered it like that before. It was easy for him to get lost in the joy of his friends, being in a place where he felt he truly belonged, after years spent being a nobody in the Dursley house. 

“Hermione, I’m so-”

“Don’t apologize, Harry. It isn’t your fault. It’s  _ never  _ your fault.” she said, in a firm tone that brooked no argument. He closed his mouth, though he still felt he had to make amends for his inattention toward her. 

“Maybe if I had someone who would kiss  _ me _ …” Hermione mumbled, and Harry once again chuckled at the topic. Hermione, so intellectual and articulate, suddenly grumbling about being kissed.

Being a teenager was interesting.

“I feel that way sometimes, too. I never really found anyone I’m really interested in though.” 

“No one?” 

“Well... Cho, maybe.”

“Of course.” 

“What about you?”

“I feel the same way, for the most part. There was one, but… he’s occupied with someone else.” 

Harry didn’t need to ask to know who she meant. Ron could be incredibly thick sometimes.

“I guess I can just watch people snog in Witch Weekly.”

Harry chuckled. “You’ll find someone eventually, Hermione.”

She didn’t respond at first, and the silence stretched out comfortably as the sun set. 

“Thank you, Harry.”

Their homework remained untouched.

* * *

 

Ever since their conversation by the lake, Hermione was beginning to wonder if she’d gone insane. It was the only reasonable explanation.

_ I keep staring at his lips. _

Maybe it was just that it was one of the few occasions she’d spent time with Harry, without Ron. Maybe it was because the conversation was about something other than the odd things that happened to Harry, or some lunatic adventure which would get them in trouble, or schemes to get out of such trouble.

_ Maybe I’m just desperate. _

It was completely ludicrous. She was never this distractible before, even when she had been squeezing three or four extra hours a day in to take every class Hogwarts had to offer.

_ When did Harry become more sensitive, anyway? _

She did everything she could to try and keep her thoughts from running too wild. It usually worked, but only when he wasn’t in the room.

She was tucked into one of the squashy armchairs by the fire in the Gryffindor common room. She was studying up for her potions quiz, making sure she knew the different uses of the five new plants Snape had introduced to them. It was late, and she was the only one still up aside from Neville, who had fallen asleep in his chair. She would wake him once she turned in for the night.

It came as a surprise when she heard the portrait hole swing open. Hermione looked up to see who’d been out so long after curfew. 

She saw no one.

She paused.

“Harry?”

His head suddenly came into view, looking properly abashed for being caught. 

“What were you doing?” she asked, her tone switching to disapproval. He really ought to stop doing that! Doing it in an emergency was one thing, but for fun?

“I went out for a fly.” He pulled his cloak off and revealed he also had his broom with him.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

“Nah.”

Hermione knew Harry had nightmares occasionally, and tonight must have been particularly bad if he’d risked being caught to let off some steam. She eased up a bit, and gestured to the chair next to her. He yawned but took it gratefully, practically dissolving into it once he sat down.

“You’re ever diligent.” he said, tapping her book.

“Of course I am.”

He shook his head, amused. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

Hermione actually blushed, unable to help herself as pride and gratitude rushed through her. She closed the book, setting it on her lap. 

“I won’t do your transfiguration homework, Harry.”

“Drat.”

“You’re incredible too, you know.”

“Not really, I’m just Harry, the very unlucky baby who lived.”

“Oh stop it, you know you are.” Before she realized what she was doing, she reached over and rested her hand over his. “Lucky or unlucky, you’ve overcome so much, for yourself and for others. That’s amazing, Harry. Not a lot of people have that kind of resilience or selflessness.” She pulled her hand back with a smile, but it faltered when she met his piercing green eyes.

“H-Harry?”

* * *

 

He was going mad.

His heart was pounding in his chest, his cheeks warm with a flush, and the soft glow of the dying fire made a perfect halo of light around her. He’d heard similar words before, from people he held dear or looked up to.

They never seemed to hit him quite as powerfully as they did now.

“H-Harry?”

He finally snapped out of it, clearing his throat and sitting up. His heart still pounded in his chest.

“Thank you, Hermione. I… Er, thank you.”

“Of course,” she said cheerfully, a smile lighting up her face. “What are friends for?”

Harry frowned just a bit.

Friends?

Of course they were friends, but... why did that suddenly feel strange in his mind? Like it didn’t fit.

“Helping me with Transfiguration homework,” he said. She scoffed quietly and stood, stretching away the stiffness from sitting for so long. Harry watched with far more interest than he used to. 

_ What is wrong with me? _

“Finish it first, and then I’ll take a look at it, alright?”

“Yeah, alright.”

She went and gently shook Neville, who snorted and snuffled before he woke properly. He thanked Hermione with a tired smile and trudged his way up to bed, leaving the two of them alone in the common room.

_ I’m too close to the fire _ , he thought.  _ That’s why it’s so warm. _

“I’m going to get some sleep,” Hermione said, stifling a yawn. “You should too, if you can.” There was a softness to her tone that made Harry squirm internally. He knew she knew about the nightmares, but he didn’t want to worry her. They were his burdens to bear.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he grumbled, getting up from his chair. He was much more tired than when he’d gone to bed earlier, maybe enough that he wouldn’t be bothered by any more dreams. She handed his cloak and broom to him from where he’d set them aside.

Their fingers brushed on the handle, and he felt another jolt, his heart galloping in his chest. He wanted to rest his hand over hers this time, link their fingers, feel their warmth and-

“Goodnight Harry.”

She let go, and hurried up the stairs to her dormitory.

“...Goodnight, Hermione.”

* * *

 

“Harry, I swear I’m going to murder you with my bare hands.” Hermione hissed. “I won’t even need my wand-”

“Sshshh!”

Harry was a little irritated. Hermione had insisted on coming along tonight, yet the whole time she was whispering her fear of getting caught in his ear. “If you didn’t want to come, then why-”

He cut himself off mid-sentence. A light was dancing on the wall at the end of the corridor, and it was getting brighter. Hermione froze behind him, clearly having seen it too, so he spun and quickly pressed them both against the wall.

They held their breath as the sound of footsteps approached. Harry didn’t think his cloak was a secret to most of the staff anymore, so he wouldn’t be surprised if they were extra careful to look for signs of him creeping about. Thankfully, it was Professor Flitwick, carrying a steaming mug of hot chocolate almost as big as he was.  _ Could have been worse _ , he thought, images of Snape scrutinizing the shadows coming to mind. The little professor came within a bare foot of them as he passed, but didn’t so much as glance in their direction. Once the footsteps receded, they breathed a sigh of relief in unison. 

Harry was suddenly very aware of just how close Hermione was.

He flushed heavily. Hermione had come back from summer looking much girlier, and now he could feel the differences. She felt soft pressed up against his chest, and as he took a nervous breath he noticed she smelled of clean soap, and her hair smelled like coconut...

“I think we should wait a moment,” she whispered quietly, and his skin broke out into goosebumps as her breath brushed around his collar. She was looking over his shoulder, peering out through the small gap in the cloak.

“Er- yeah...” he mumbled, trying to shift his hips away from her subtly, because his body was reacting in a way that he found quite mortifying.

The seconds seemed to drag out into an eternity.  _ Think of something else _ , he thought desperately.  _ Anything else. Summer with the Dursleys. Mandrake roots. Crabbe and Goyle kissing. Snape wearing a- _

“Harry? Harry!” Hermione whispered. “I think it’s safe, you can let me go now.”

Harry stepped back quietly, eager to return to the safety of his dorm. Hermione whispered a charm to silence their footsteps, and the two carefully made their way back to Gryffindor Tower.

When they finally reached the portrait hole, Harry found himself spouting curses so colorful he might have painted with them. The Fat Lady was not in her frame, nor was there any sign of her nearby.

“Well,” Hermione sighed, “I suppose we just have to wait.”

“Fantastic,” Harry muttered, leaning against the wall. Hermione did the same, standing close to keep the cloak in place.

“I don’t suppose it’ll do me any good to scold you,” Hermione said, though her tone was playful.

“I’m sure you’ll manage in the morning.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“You like the sound of your own voice too much,” Harry grinned.

“Hey!”

They both chuckled quietly.

“Only teasing, Hermione.”

“You seem fond of that,” Hermione noted wryly.

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No, I suppose it isn’t.”

Harry heard the smile in her voice, and felt a surge of warmth. “It’s nice, having friends to tease,” he said, reflecting on the thought. He really did love and appreciate his friends. They made him feel welcome, like he belonged.

“Not many friends, before Hogwarts?” Hermione asked tentatively. Harry had never told her much about his life as a Muggle. Not that he necessarily wanted to hide it from her, but the few times he had mentioned things about the Dursleys, it had alarmed and upset her. 

“No one wanted to get on Dudley’s bad side,” he said reluctantly. “Any friend of mine was an enemy of his, so they stayed away from me.”

She made an angry sound in her throat, bristling beside him. “The day we can do magic outside school…”

Harry grinned at the idea. Hermione was a sight to behold when she was angry, he’d love to set her loose on his cousin. 

“He’s not worth it. Besides, you’re a model student! You’d never.”

She pinched him for that. “Don’t underestimate me, Harry,” she warned, though the lightness was back in her tone.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said sincerely.

They fell quiet as the night stretched on. The time passed slowly, and Harry found it to be a comfortable silence, with Hermione’s company. Eventually she nudged him, alerting him to the Fat Lady wandering back into her frame. They crept close and Hermione whispered the password, startling a squawk out of the painting, and scrambled through the portrait hole into the blissfully empty common room. Harry pulled off the cloak, and they both finally relaxed.

“We need to find better ways to entertain ourselves,” Hermione groaned, dragging her hands down her face. “Ways that don’t risk expulsion, primarily.”

“You’d be so bored without me to get you into trouble,” Harry scoffed, poking her gently in the side. It startled him when she gasped, twitched violently and slapped his hand away. 

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, it just tickled.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

She eyed him. “...What for?”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Hermione’s eyebrows knit together. “Harry, tickling doesn’t- it isn’t supposed to hurt.”

Harry’s cheeks burnt with embarrassment. “Oh,” he managed, not knowing what else to say. Every time he’d been ‘tickled,’ his cousin had pinched and poked him hard in the sides. At least, that’s what Dudley had told teachers and other adults he was doing.

The expression of understanding on Hermione’s face made his insides writhe uncomfortably.

“I’m mostly ticklish on my ribs,” she confessed, and Harry felt a rush of gratitude that she didn’t pursue the matter.

“You’re handing me an advantage?” he asked with a tight smile. His cheeks were still warm.

“Hardly,” she scoffed as she stepped toward him. “I mean to even the field.” She placed her hands on his ribs and wiggled her fingers about oddly, and it felt… Well, like she was wiggling her fingers about his ribs. “You aren’t ticklish here,” she concluded, before moving her hands up to his neck, and repeating the motion. It felt strange, but he didn’t feel the urge to escape or to stop her.  _ It’s kind of nice, actually _ , Harry thought, and it struck him then how unusual it was to feel gentle hands touching him. Most of the physical contact in his life was malicious or rough, never this-  _ what on earth is that- _

Harry’s entire body jerked, and he couldn’t contain a snort as Hermione’s fingers wriggled more insistently in his armpits. He tried to pull away, flailing and writhing involuntarily from the alien sensation and why the hell was he laughing-

“Ow- Harry-!”

“Hermione- Oh no, I’m so sorry!”

One of his elbows had clipped her, and she was clutching at her left cheek.

“It’s okay, it wasn’t your fault-”

“Come over here, let me see,” Harry insisted urgently, pulling her toward the fireplace. He turned her toward the light, and she dropped her hand so he could see. Her cheekbone was a little red and puffy, but didn’t look like it would bruise. He grazed his fingertips across it, careful not to press too hard. She closed her eyes, letting him inspect her face, but the motion drew his attention to the shape of her lashes. They were short, and there were a lot of them, and they curled delicately upward.

“Harry?” she asked, opening her eyes, and the firelight danced in her warm brown gaze.

“You’ll live,” he said, trying his best to keep his voice steady as his heart did its best impression of a snitch, fluttering madly in his chest. His hand had come to rest on her cheek, his thumb brushing gently against her cheek, when he saw her eyes flick to his lips for just a moment.

It was enough.

They met in the middle, crashing together awkwardly, but neither seemed to care. Hermione’s hands came up to his chest, fingers curling into fists in the front of his robes, and the hand Harry had on her cheek slid naturally to the back of her neck.

She broke the kiss with a gasp, apparently out of breath. His heart soared when she didn’t move away, but  _ stayed _ , even leaning into him a little.

“You were right, Harry.”

“I was?” 

“I would be bored without you.”

For that, he kissed her again, and didn’t stop for a long time.

* * *

 

HP


End file.
